The trouble with Summer is that the smallest chink in the curtains lets in a blazing shaft of light as soon as the sun comes up. Unfortunately for Susanna, the chink in her room’s curtain, this morning, aligned exactly between the sun and her sleepy eyes. Feeling that someone had come into her room and thrown on the lights, to spite her, Susanna’s first waking action was to curl into a ball and pull the duvet over her head, summoning all her breath to direct a muffled, “Fuck off!” at whoever had ripped her from her dream.

Listening quietly for a few moments, it was apparent no one had entered the room. Her head slowly emerged from the duvet and, lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the light, she discovered that the culprit who interrupted her sleep was, in fact, ninety-three million miles away. And being a bright summer's day, it wasn’t about to fuck off anywhere, anytime soon.

Susanna turned in her bed to move out of the sun’s beam and glanced up at her phone which was perched on her bedside cabinet.

“06:32,” it read.

“What business does the Sun have turning up outside her window nearly half an hour before the alarm?” She thought.

A deep sigh helped to stretch and relax her internal muscles but she wasn’t keen to get up yet. She closed her eyes and anticipated falling fast asleep again any moment.

It was no use. Laying on her side was putting an uncomfortable pressure on her bladder which was going to need emptying before there was any chance of getting back to sleep. She hauled the heavy covers off and used her legs to pivot round in the bed until they were hanging off the side. With one elbow anchored in the mattress, she pressed on her left hand with her right and levered herself upright with minimal exertion. Her feet lined up almost exactly with her slippers, so on they went.

Another heavy sigh and the naked sleeper stood up, eyes still half shut, and zombie-shuffled into the en-suite bathroom. Being nude, she straddled the toilet seat and rested her head on her arms, folded across the stylish unit that hid the cistern. The thundering noise of her piss, charging into the water due to her position, reverberated around the tiled bathroom and likely around whichever room was directly below.

It was a long piss but the relief on her body, as her bladder emptied, was blissful. She stayed seated for a few minutes after the flow stopped, partly to allow a final few drips to drop, but mostly because she was far too comfortable to move.

Eventually, she dropped her hand to the loo roll and ripped off a handful of sheets to wipe herself dry. She flushed it all away as she stood up. Hands washed, she schlepped back to her bed, kicked off her slippers, rolled back onto the soft mattress, and hauled the heavy covers back over.

Another check of the clock showed, “06:39.”

Twenty minutes until the alarm. She was wide awake now and had little prospect of snoozing before it would be time to get up again.

(What would you do, if you had twenty minutes to kill, while all cosy in bed… and Naked?)

Susanna grabbed her phone, made sure her web browser was in incognito mode, and then logged into LushStories.com. She had a few more likes and comments on her profile, even some tips, so went straight to see what gifs and pics people had posted on her wall. She loved the randomness of what her fans posted.

There were a few suggestive, light-bondage pics, some hardcore fucking gifs, lots of blowjob-related material, but the one that caught her eye was a striking image of an American Cowboy, wearing just his hat, jeans and boots, standing in an open stable with a horse. The Sun was beating down on his ripped torso. Those abs. Those pecks! That smile. And such blue eyes.

Her attention turned to his jeans and, using the pinch and zoom feature on her phone, tried to gauge if any of the lumps, bumps, and creases on his denims gave any clues to how well endowed this fine specimen might be. With no evidence to the contrary, she determined the package in his pants would be every bit as impressive as the rest of him.

She imagined his strong arms lifting her up, spinning her around, and placing her on a high stack of straw bales. She’d be just at the perfect height for him to draw back her purty-lil skirt, spread her knees apart, and teach her pussy how to French-kiss.

Under her covers her fingers were already rubbing circles over and around her clit, feeling the mildest residue of her recent piss, still moist on her labia. But it soon gave way to another kind of wetness, when she dipped her middle finger deeper, and felt how slick she was becoming.

Her fantasy cowboy looked up at her, from between her thighs, with those bright blue eyes, giving her full-body chills. She’d take the leather Stetson from his head and put it on hers so she could cup the back of his head and encourage him to lick deeper.

Two fingers were now furiously sliding in and out of her wet pussy while her thumb rubbed on her hood, sliding it, back and forth, over her erect clitoris. The hand holding her phone rubbed on her nipple, and pressed on her breast, as her fantasy developed.

The Cowboy stepped onto another bale of straw bringing his crotch to the same height as hers. He popped the buttons of his fly letting his very impressive erection spring out to greet her. While leaning forward to kiss her neck, she would feel his hard-on parting her slippery lips, and sliding inside her with ease. It would fill her up so completely.

With the well-endowed cowboy getting into his rhythm, pounding his thighs against hers, she imagined his entirety pressing into and pulling out from, the wet, fleshy grip she had on him, over and over.

She pulled her coated fingers from her vagina and concentrated on rubbing her erect exposed clit with them. Faster and faster, harder and harder.

With her eyes closed her phone was now lying face down on her chest, between her breasts, so she could grab, caress, massage and squeeze each one, heightening her sensations. As she closed in on her climax, rubbing furiously, arching her back, eyes tightly shut and her head pushing deep into her pillow, the phone on her chest started to buzz. The vibrations of her 7 am alarm sent a ripple of tingles through her erotically charged body and launched her into one of the most satisfying orgasms of her young life.

But before she had a chance to enjoy the climb down from her ecstasy, she was snapped back to reality by the unmistakable clink of a breakfast tray - complete with China teapot, crockery and silver cutlery - being placed on the bedside cabinet.

“Good morning, Your Majesty,” the chambermaid announced, throwing open the curtains to flood the young Queen’s bedroom with daylight.

“Fuck’s sake, Milly!” Queen Susanna laughed, relieved it wasn’t the old butler who’d brought breakfast today. “Did you really have to be so punctual, this morning?”

“Well, Ma’am,” the maid smiled, “Had I known, I’d have come in ten minutes earlier.”

As Susanna sat up in bed, wiping her sticky fingers on a napkin, which then disappeared under the covers to dry her vulva, Milly went into the en-suite bathroom to begin running a bath. She slipped off her maid’s uniform and returned, naked, into the Queen’s bedroom. The Queen tucked into a croissant while Milly sat on the edge of the bed, beside her boss and best friend.

“What was your inspo this morning?” she asked, knowing how her boss’s mind worked.

With her mouth full, Susanna picked up her phone and held the screen up so Milly could see the cowboy.

“Oh, wow, he’s hawt!” she enthused. “Send him over to me when you’re done with him.”

With that, Susanna saved the pic and air-dropped it to Milly’s phone, just one of hundreds of sexy images the pair had shared in the few months since The Coronation when Milly first started working for the Royal Household. The two girls were the same age, and although they came from very different backgrounds, they soon discovered that their shared enjoyment of nudism was an excellent leveller.

After breakfast, and another post-masturbation pee, Her Majesty and Milly relaxed into the bathtub together. As the maid washed her mistress, the other members of the Household Staff, beyond the private residence, were busy preparing for the start of the young Queen’s working day.